The Three Cousins
by Sempre libera
Summary: Next-generation. The Misses Wickham were raised alongside their Aunt Mary's daughter. Now marriageable young ladies, will the three cousins manage to meet their match in spite of schemers, meddlers, prejudicial first impressions and the shadows of scandals past? Sort-of sequel to the Odd Duck's Quest, but can be read as a stand-alone.
1. Sir Thomas' predictions

_A few notes on this story:_

-This story can be read as a stand-alone. For those who read _The Odd Duck's Quest_ , it follows the next generation introduced in the epilogue's coda.

-For convenience's sake, I have assumed that all Jane Austen's novels take place around the same period: late 1790's. I know that is not the case; however this enabled me to set this story in the late 1810's. Our heroines will also cross the paths of next-generation characters from other Austen novels, because crossovers in her world are my kryptonite.

-About the title: I almost opted for "The Ducklings' Pursuits", but I chose "The Three Cousins" because: 1) I read somewhere that Jane Austen intended to name her Sanditon novel "The Three Brothers", and I liked the homage; 2) in my first draft, I was amazed to discover that everybody ended up related somehow, so brace yourself for a staggering amount of cousins, dutifully playing their part- but the three titular cousins shall remain the heroines.

-At last: I suspect that this story won't interest many people, and original characters are not a draw, but I hope that those of you who stumbled upon this fic will enjoy it nonetheless.

 **Summary** : The Misses Wickham were raised alongside their Aunt Mary's daughter. Now marriageable young ladies, will the three cousins manage to meet their match in spite of schemers, meddlers, prejudicial first impressions and the shadows of scandals past?

 **Disclaimer** : Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius; I am just playing in her world.

Also in this prologue, a reference to _Northanger Abbey._

* * *

It is a truth, though not universally acknowledged, that a baronet who has been blessed with a willful daughter and two stubborn nieces, must be thinking of their matrimonial prospects with something like trepidation.

How far away were the days of boyish insouciance of the former Mr Tom Bertram! They had not prepared him for the daunting task that awaited the now respectable Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park. He believed himself well-versed in the schemes that were involved in the manoeuvring business of marriage; but many obstacles were causing him a great deal of vexation.

He must contend with all three young ladies out, at once, for one thing; a very odd fact, as a great Lady had been known to comment. The neighbourhood, though quite agreeable, had not welcomed any single gentlemen with a good income among the newcomers for some years; and Sir Thomas was aware that such gentlemen were sadly indispensable to the proceedings. With his latest scheme, however, he would overcome the perverseness of the surrounding families; and eligible gentlemen would be thrown in his daughter and nieces' way.

If adventures would not befall them in the county of Northampton, the young ladies would seek them abroad, he argued; it was time that they should go and look at the world.

"And be looked at in return?" Lady Bertram asked with a slight frown.

Lady Bertram could not approve of her husband's plan. Perhaps part of reservations might be attributed to the former Mary Bennet's ingrained distaste for the excesses of matchmaking. Indeed, she had not seen it fit to school her daughter and nieces in the usual arts and allurements young ladies were taught to charm and captivate, being herself entirely devoid of those skills, and rather much inclined to despise them. She had made a rather daring choice instead, that is, to instil in her charges decidedly less attractive qualities such as a strong moral fibre and an opinionated mind.

"I do not believe that machinations and stratagems can bring about happy events. I, for one, did not catch you; indeed, we caught each other without being aware of it," she added.

"But if you had not ventured outside of the Hertfordshire, we would not have met," Sir Thomas retorted. "It is our duty to provide our girls with the opportunities to make new acquaintances."

"There is no hurry," she protested.

"I beg your pardon, my dear Mary; but you must know that is quite untrue. Our daughter may well take her time; but our nieces may not afford it. You are aware of their expectations, and of their closest connections as well…Your eldest niece is twenty-two; not a venerable age, I grant you, but the world is cruel. In five years or so she will be called an old maid."

Lady Bertram, who felt a kinship with the Marian, the only Wickham child who was not handsome, listened, and feared for the security of her niece's future.

"Did your sister Yates agree to receive our three girls at the same time?" she asked.

"I did not intend to send them all to stay with Julia," he admitted. "Cassandra and Phoebe shall be quite entertained in Town, but I do not think that this environment will agree with Marian. She shall stay with your sister Campbell; in a neighbourhood that is neither too small, nor too large, where she will find herself at ease."

"What! You want to send Marian all by herself, without either her cousin or her sister?" Mary cried.

She did not question Kitty's sense of hospitality, nor her respectability as a country doctor's wife; but she felt that Marian's reserve might not be understood by the sociable Mrs Campbell.

"As the only Miss Wickham in attendance, Marian will not be overshadowed by her prettier sister or by Cassandra. She will get noticed, and she shall have to socialize without their help."

"You are quite Machiavellian, Tom," Mary said wonderingly.

Sir Thomas laughed:

"Not at all, my dear! I am but a humble apprentice, hoping to match your mother's achievements. Only think of it; consider her successes! Five daughters out at once, with small dowries, in a modestly sized neighbourhood; and she did get them married, every single one of them! Let us give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and acknowledge Mrs Bennet as the true, unsung Machiavelli of this family."

* * *

Phoebe Wickham, upon learning that she was to go to London with Miss Bertram, was overjoyed. What a change of fortune! She had been cruelly disappointed only the year before, being judged too young to stay in Bath with her cousin then; but London was far superior to Bath, and she was determined to enjoy her stay and be merry. There would be plays to attend at the Theatre Royal and at the Lyceum, and balls to dance at- and she was so fond of dancing! There would also be so many new acquaintances to make!

"Human nature, I believe, is a constant; you may meet a greater variety of _people_ , but you must not expect to discover any novelty in their _characters_ ," her older and more cautious sister warned.

"This might be true," Phoebe conceded, "but who cares about their characters? I shall be satisfied with the sight of dashing gentlemen, who must be a great deal more fashionable and gallant than the ones we know around here. You must understand, Marian," she added cheekily, her hazel eyes twinkling, "that this is no aspersion on the character of Mr Harding, or the brothers Harrison, but one cannot be impressed by gentlemen one has known in their schoolboy days; and one cannot hope to impress those gentlemen for the very same reasons. They remember me as an awkward child; but in London, I shall be known only as the graceful butterfly I have become. It is capital to make the most auspicious first impression. You are frowning now; of course, _you_ never seek to impress, and very few things impress _you_."

Marian could not approve of this speech; but it was useless to say so. Cassandra was better at reasoning with Phoebe. She suspected that the latter could be made to listen to what the former advised, because where Phoebe Wickham was bold, Cassandra Bertram was fearless.

Lady Bertram entered the room, and Phoebe checked herself. Tall and confident for her age, she still felt the effect of her Aunt's presence. She could sense quiet disapproval, but she could not pinpoint the source of it, little suspecting that in her looks, gestures and laugh, Mary spied reminders of Lydia, and fretted that the mother's recklessness had been passed on to the daughter.

Sir Thomas did not share her anxiety. Having experienced for himself the disastrous effects of too stern an upbringing, of too austere a father, he believed that too many restrictions could only lead the children to conceal their true character from their parents, as his own sisters and he had done. The Bertram and the Wickham children enjoyed freedom of speech under his roof; and as for the daughters of the family, he was accustomed to say: "let our girls run wild in private from time to time, lest they do so publicly."

* * *

Marian suspected the true motives behind her Uncle's announcement. She understood that she was encouraged to "widen her circle" and to "make new acquaintances" in the hope that she might make a match of it; but although she did not dare voice it, she felt highly sceptical about the scheme. A plain girl, who only spoke and understood plain speech, and who had reached the age of twenty-two without catching the eye of a single gentleman, could hardly expect to be a success abroad when she could not even be one at home.

"Must I go, Aunt?" she asked pitifully.

Mary took in the anxious face, with its ordinary features and thoughtful light eyes, and felt her resolve weaken; but the thought of her niece's best interests made her say gently:

"Mansfield will always be your home, my dear child; but it cannot be your world."

Marian bowed her head.

"When I was nineteen," her Aunt went on, "I used to believe that I knew enough of the world, without having experienced much of it. I was quite certain that I had reached a sufficient degree of self-knowledge. How wrong I was! It was not until after I left Longbourn, that I began to understand that one cannot know oneself truly until one has learnt to live in it, instead of looking on it as a detached observer."

"I am to be alone," Marian said; "abroad, and without your guidance. What if I make a misstep?"

"I am afraid that this is our lot. We make mistakes all the time; this is how we learn from them. Go and see the world, Marian; keep an open mind, and do not hesitate to revise your judgment, since I know that in your quiet way, you can be as stubborn as your cousin. This shall be your quest," she smiled affectionately, blinking away tears, "and I have faith in you."

* * *

"I cannot speak for Marian and Phoebe, Papa; but I must tell you that _I_ am _not_ looking for a husband," Cassandra stated categorically as she entered her father's study.

Sir Thomas reclined in his comfortable chair with the practiced air of a man who had learnt to pick his battles.

"Very well; I am forewarned," he said in his most congenial tone. "I am aware that you are a serious-minded lady, and that the only things that you intend to enjoy in London are the bookshops and theatre. However, since -as your mother is fond of saying- society has claims on all of us, I hope that you will not offend your Aunt Yates by refusing to attend balls, tedious and frivolous activities as they are."

"Certainly; since I must, I shall attend them," his daughter answered mildly.

Sir Thomas, who would leave nothing to chance, pressed his advantage:

"And if a gentleman of reasonably good looks, sound morals, excellent manners and tolerable wit were to ask you to dance, you _would_ accept him, wouldn't you?"

"Sir, if I expect a gentleman to unite in his person all these qualities, I might as well remain seated the entire evening," she riposted.

"Who knows? More unexpected things have been known to happen; and you might be prevailed upon to accept some gentleman's hand, and reconsider your former opinions."

Cassandra looked up sharply:

"Are you still talking of dancing, Papa?"

"What else might I be thinking of? But in dancing, as well as in other related matters you do not wish me to mention, let me impart you this small piece of wisdom: in my experience, one finds oneself in the middle before one knows one has begun."

"Indeed! Shall I warn Marian and Phoebe, Sir? We must be on our guard from this day on. To begin such an adventure without realizing it! No, you are teasing me; this cannot be true."

"Alas! You do not believe me; I see that you won't heed my advice," Sir Thomas said fatalistically. "I foresee, much like the poet, that the course of true love shall not run smooth."

Amused by his antics, Cassandra, who had inherited her mother's slow smile and her father's streak of mischief, asked indulgently:

"What are your predictions then?"

"Your cousin Phoebe, upon their first meeting, shall either find the gentleman in question exceedingly charming, or dislike him thoroughly."

Cassandra shook her head, but must admit to herself that Phoebe, at seventeen, had yet to learn moderation in her judgments.

"Marian would probably rather remain unnoticed; and the gentleman who recognizes her value must be quite persuasive if he wants to succeed with her."

Sir Thomas looked at his daughter:

"For you, at last; I imagine that a gentleman who catches your eye must expect to be the object of some painstaking scrutiny; and if he finally passes muster, you will inform the hapless fellow that the bans are to be published within the fortnight."

"Father!" Cassandra protested, half-indignant and half-laughing in spite of herself.

"Or, if life imitates the plays you are so fond of, perhaps some comedy of errors, some failed first impressions- do not look at me so, Cassandra. It does happen to the best of us. Why, your mother thought me an impertinent rapscallion when she first laid eyes on me; and to my shame, I confess that I called her a pedantic bookworm in my head."

She looked scandalized, and would have contested further; but another matter was worrying her.

"Excuse me to insist, but I do not believe that it is wise to let someone so young and weak-minded come with me to London."

"This is ungenerous of you, Cassandra. You know her reduced circumstances; I would have expected you to show her some kindness."

"I do not wish to be ungenerous; but I fear that staying in London shall turn her head."

"Have no fear," Sir Thomas laughed, "once in the crush of London, there shall be no risk of that. London is the last place in the world where she might get an inflated sense of self-importance."

"Yes, but does she have enough sense to feel it? I am sorry to say that I do not believe that a single original thought ever entered her head; and at seventeen, her opinions are still undecided."

"Her opinions are still undecided?" he said gravely. "You must not hold it against the poor girl; you have formed fixed opinions ever since you were thirteen, and are yet to change them seven years later."

"I believe in consistency, Sir."

"Indeed; I am well-acquainted with your consistency," he answered good-naturedly.

As her father for these past twenty years, he had often found himself in the difficult position of rueing her lack of ductility and yet feeling proud of her capacity to judge for herself.

However, he would not accede to her request; and when he was left alone in his study, he wondered idly which of his dire predictions might come true.

* * *

 _-if you have any comments, questions, suggestions...please let me know!_

 _Feedback makes this fanficcer happy :)_


	2. First impressions

**Summary** : The Misses Wickham were raised alongside their Aunt Mary's daughter. Now marriageable young ladies, will the three cousins manage to meet their match in spite of schemers, meddlers, prejudicial first impressions and the shadows of scandals past?

 **Disclaimer** : Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius; I am just playing in her world.

Also, in this chapter, a few blink-and-you'll miss them hints at _Much Ado About Nothing,_ a quote from _Emma,_ a wink at _Northanger Abbey_ and a play on a famous quote from Jane Austen's Letters.

 ** _Thank you so, so much for your encouragements. I did not expect such a warm reception; and I really hope you won't be disappointed._**

 ** _I have replied to the reviews on the forum._**

* * *

Mrs Yates was a handsome and distinguished-looking woman; and there were high hopes that she would prove to be the perfect hostess to three young ladies. She had retained her respectability and would only mingle with the rich, the titled or the fashionable set.

Her niece, Miss Wickham and their friend Miss Harrison would not experience a single dull moment.

"What was your father thinking, keeping you in the country for the past two years, away from everything that is elegant and entertaining? It must be intolerably dull," Mrs Yates told her niece, remembering her own days of ennui as a young Miss Julia forced to remain at Mansfield Park.

Cassandra answered politely that the Bertram clan managed to keep themselves tolerably amused.

"But you are twenty and out in society; and your neighbourhood must not offer you many prospects. Have no worry; here, in London, we shall get you beaux in no time."

Suppressing a look of alarm, Miss Bertram attempted to direct her Aunt's matchmaking towards a dearer direction:

"My cousins are very elegant and handsome. Fair looks, I am told, are very much admired; and they must be prized for their beauty."

Mrs Yates smiled proudly:

"Indeed; they are a great success; between the two of them, they have enough beaux to spare."

Alethea and Sophy Yates, meanwhile, were making their own observations. The friend of Miss Bertram and Miss Wickham, a Miss Lucy Harrison, they dismissed summarily, on account of her being obviously quite provincial.

Miss Phoebe Wickham, by virtue of being much prettier than the unfortunate Miss Harrison, was already more interesting; and her artlessness guaranteed that her claims to proper elegance would not rival theirs.

Most of their curiosity was stirred by their cousin Cassandra. They knew little of her, unlike their elder brother James, who had been spending many holidays at Mansfield Park. Invitations had been extended to them, and had been politely refused; the Misses Yates were persuaded that the country air would not agree with them, and that their superiority would be wasted on the unfashionable locals.

They were impressed with Cassandra, however; while she was not even remotely as sophisticated as them, which was to be expected from a young lady unfamiliar with the latest fashions, there was an air of refined elegance about her; a certain something that they could not explain, that inspired respect and awe; and they felt it to be the mark of _quality_.

Cassandra was more circumspect about them. She quickly determined that her cousins were good-tempered, as long as nothing crossed them; generous, as long as no sacrifice was required; and since so far no event had ever put these admirable qualities to the test, they had been pronounced to be the most amiable ladies in London.

* * *

"I was never so relieved to be ignored," Phoebe told Cassandra once the terrible Mrs Goulding had departed. The lady had taken the opportunity to quiz the newly-arrived Miss Bertram during her visit, in a very persistent fashion. Her family's estate, connections and fortune had been asked after; Cassandra had eluded her questions as civilly as she could, and was now free to express her indignation.

"When one thinks that other young ladies must endure a whole season of such impertinent inquiries, made on behalf of some male relatives!"

She sighed wistfully: "I was almost tempted to tell her that we were hoping that Samuel would not gamble away my dowry and leave us to starve in the hedgerows - but alas! My brother's character is stainless and everybody knows it."

"Do you really believe," Phoebe asked, "that Mrs Goulding was trying to ascertain your eligibility? She looked so regal and respectable! I would never have suspected her of such designs."

"All her haughtiness and imperious manners could not fool _me_. I have a good eye, Phoebe; I can see a church by daylight."

* * *

The arrival of the handsome Misses Yates could not escape the notice of the ballroom. They were a sight for sore eyes; but the news soon spread that among the young ladies that were their companions for the evening, their cousin Miss Bertram was making her debut in Town.

Miss Bertram was a baronet's daughter, credited with at least twenty or thirty thousand pounds; a fact which could only make her more interesting. Besides, Miss Bertram was a novelty; and novelties were always intriguing.

"Here comes Miss Bertram, with a friend and a cousin, on her mother's side," well-informed people were saying.

A gentleman looked on attentively. He saw two tall ladies in elegant attire; and a shorter one, whose dress was not as well-cut, or from an equally fine fabric, little details that indicated her inferior station to a shrewd eye.

"I have heard of Miss Bertram already," he said to his neighbour, "and I was told about her penniless cousin."

"Shall you seek an introduction?" the other gentleman asked, seeing his gaze linger on one of the ladies- not Miss Bertram, he was surprised to notice.

"No; I shall introduce myself at a more convenient time," he answered.

* * *

Another gentleman of twenty-seven, a Mr Sidney Parker, lively and pleasant, _was_ looking at Miss Bertram. He saw a lady with black hair and dark eyes; an expression that spoke of resolve; looks that were not angelic, but striking; and he was quite disposed to admire her.

Being of a sociable nature, and blessed with a curious mind (to the point of inquisitiveness, it had been observed by friends and detractors alike), it was only natural that he should be anxious to be introduced. He suspected that the likes of Miss Bertram were not often to be met with, and he was eager to discover for himself what _she_ was like – until a lull in the music allowed him to overhear the following conversation:

"Oh, no gentleman stands comparison with Mr Bailey where amiability is concerned," Miss Sophy said imprudently, earning a sharp glare from her sister; "but he has a friend who is very handsome too. He is standing by the door- can you see him? He is the gentleman in the light coat."

Sidney's amused eye met Miss Bertram's cool, appraising gaze; till she withdrew her own and said to Miss Sophy:

"I would not call him handsome; his features are too irregular."

"Not handsome! You are too severe; he is very pleasing to the eye - and so fashionable, too! " another lady cried out.

"I have always thought that Mr. Parker and his close friends were very well-dressed," Miss Sophy stated.

"Very well-dressed indeed; but I must confess that I care very little for clothes. I do not believe that the profusion of vain ornaments can mask the essentials," her cousin said somewhat sententiously, Sidney felt.

It must be acknowledged, however, that Miss Bertram herself was wearing a simple yet elegant white gown, with no lace on it at all. She looked positively austere among her companions, who were displaying all the lace they were able to cover their gowns with; and in the case of the elder Miss Yates, sporting a satin turban trimmed with an ostrich feather.

"But if we are to talk about fashion, I must say that gentlemen who copy the latest fashions often look quite puppyish, don't you think? It denotes weakness and irresolution; a propensity to follow uncritically that I cannot admire."

Sidney walked away; and upon meeting his friend Bailey, lost no time in narrating his misfortune to him:

"Where to begin? The lady has put me down, Reginald, she has put me down. I am not handsome, and although she granted that I was fashionable, she surmised that such good taste was not my own."

"Listeners never hear any good of themselves," Mr Bailey said; "and indeed you deserved it, for this private conversation was no business of yours. However, I daresay that you are _not_ acquainted with Miss Bertram well-enough to understand her; and you might have mistaken her meaning."

"To be honest, Miss Bertram _did_ believe herself acquainted _enough_ with my character to dismiss me on sight, and thus I shall not seek an introduction that would be unwelcome. _I_ shall remain tragically misunderstood; and _she_ will hardly lament the loss of so unpromising an acquaintance."

"Shall _you_ lose the opportunity to demonstrate that you improve on acquaintance?" Mr Bailey asked doubtfully- and with good reason. His friend often delighted in proving people wrong.

"Don't you know, my dear Reginald, that first impressions can prejudice against one forever? _My_ attempt to fight their power would be doomed from the start, and therefore I shall _not_ make it," Mr Parker laughed.

* * *

Cassandra was beginning to regret the absence of her cousin James:

"I would rather dance with a gentleman from my own party; I am in no mood to make small talk with strangers," she whispered to Phoebe.

Before Phoebe could speak, however, two strangers were asking to be introduced to Miss Bertram; they explained that they would not have done so if they had been _complete_ strangers, but as it turned out, a common connection was already uniting them in her Aunt Mrs Darcy.

They were brother and sister; the only son and daughter of the Earl of Matlock.

How fortunate for Miss Bertram! It had been three years since she last met her Aunt Darcy; but so strong a family connection could not be denied. She could inquire after this branch of the family, asked for news, and mention that her brother was presently visiting the Darcys and the Bingleys in the Derbyshire; and accept Viscount Appleton's offer to dance without any scruples. He was almost thirty, tall, dark and handsome; his ways were formal, his manners irreproachable, and in taste and strength of character she already found him vastly superior to the other gentlemen she had been introduced to.

His sister, Lady Deane, was very civil. Alethea, however, was in danger of feeling piqued, since it had taken her cousin's presence for Lady Deane and Lord Appleton to show the Yates such marks of condescension; but Lord Appleton, after having danced his set with Miss Bertram and already applied for a later one with the lady, acted very properly by asking Miss Yates. As the eldest, he was giving her due; and now that she could claim her own share of consequence, she was considerably mollified.

Miss Sophy could not watch Alethea's triumph without feeling sorry for herself. There were, besides Mr Bailey, many gentlemen who were asking her to dance, for she was rather less haughty than her sister, and as handsome as her; but all her success could not prevent her from forming bitter reflections on the injustice of the female version of the laws of primogeniture.

Mr Bailey could not, to his chagrin, dance every set with Miss Sophy; but her loss was to be Miss Wickham and Miss Harrison's gain. The young ladies found in the ever-accommodating Mr Bailey an agreeable partner, who danced well and with great energy; and they were made to be felt so at ease, that they could not have wished for more.

Miss Wickham, upon overhearing two gentlemen mention her as "a very pretty sort of girl", thought her happiness to be complete, unlike Mr Parker, who still left the ball with a vague feeling of discontentment he could not quite suppress.

It is said that vanity, working on a weak head, produces every kind of mischief; but the examples of Miss Wickham and Mr Parker, must prove that even those made of sterner stuff are not immune.

* * *

From Miss Bertram to Miss Lambe:

According to my cousin Sophy, who looked very mysterious and refused to reveal her sources, I might have already gained a reputation for being hard to please. _I_ was quite pleased with her intelligence; and hope that this should discourage any attempts to be agreeable.

 _You_ know that I do not want gentlemen to try and please me, as it saves me the trouble of being pleasing in return.

* * *

- _your opinion is still very much welcomed!_

 _-I am working on the next chapter right now, and it should be longer and more dialogue-heavy (my favourite part to write, and I hope for you to read ^^ )..._


	3. It is only a novel

**Summary** : The Misses Wickham were raised alongside their Aunt Mary's daughter. Now marriageable young ladies, will the three cousins manage to meet their match in spite of schemers, meddlers, prejudicial first impressions and the shadows of scandals past?

 **Disclaimer** : Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius; I am just playing in her world.

\+ in this chapter, references to _Northanger Abbey_ and _Persuasion_ , a quote borrowed from the Pride and Prejudice 2005 movie, a wink at _Romeo and Juliet_ , and a few Latin quotations.

Thanks to the lovely reviewers! I have replied on the forum, where I have also posted a short list of the characters introduced so far- and I will update it as we go.

 _Since- for once- I managed to finish this chapter this week-end, I couldn't resist and here it is. Hope you'll enjoy it!  
_

* * *

Lord Appleton always acted after careful deliberation. His calling on the Yates, two days after the ball, was planned accordingly. It went without saying that his sister would go with him; she was to make overtures of friendship to the ladies.

His cousins Fitzwilliam were also staying in town, a fortuitous happenstance which allowed him to bring these two gentlemen to the Yates. With his accustomed foresight, he reasoned that it would not do for him to appear too particular in his attention to Miss Bertram, the only lady he was truly interested in knowing better; that he could not, and wished not, entertain all ladies by himself; that Mrs Yates could take umbrage at the neglect of her daughters; and that Lewis and Tristan Fitzwilliam could take upon themselves to entertain the rest of the company while _he_ would attempt to engage Miss Bertram in conversation.

Lewis Fitzwilliam was easy to enlist; Miss Bertram was connected to them, albeit indirectly, and he understood that it was in the family's interest to acknowledge the acquaintance of a baronet's daughter. Lewis, Lord Appleton reflected, could be relied upon; any appeal to his family pride was sure to rouse him. As the future head of the Matlock clan, Lord Appleton appreciated his cousin's zeal to protect the family's interests; although he was reluctant to make him privy to his own affairs sooner than was necessary. Lewis, at twenty-eight, could be incredibly officious, the result of his having been a great favourite of the late Lady Catherine de Bourgh in his formative years.

However, he found Lewis' well-meaning meddling preferable to Tristan's unconcern. Lewis was his usual ally; but Tristan, with wicked stubbornness, persisted in saying that he had very little interest in visiting people that were nothing to him, and to whom he had never been introduced:

"And if I was a member of the Yates household," he added," I would not take kindly to my drawing-room being besieged by so many strangers at once; indeed, I would find it the height of impertinence."

Lord Appleton privately lamented the fact that Tristan Fitzwilliam was not a dependent second son. An unexpected inheritance had come into his possession, leaving him, at only twenty-six, master of his own fate, much to the indignation of his older brother.

Indeed, Tristan was showing a shocking propensity to do things his own way, to the strong displeasure of many people, especially the ones who were already used to getting their own way; and Lord Appleton was beginning to see for himself the revolting effect of a younger son being no longer at the disposal of his elders and betters.

"Your presence is required," he told Tristan, "it would be a great insult to Mrs Darcy if you refused to be introduced to her nieces while they are in Town."

His cousin eyed him knowingly:

"No doubts that you impressed upon my brother the obligation to pay his respects to Mrs Darcy's nieces; old Lewis is a stickler for propriety. _I_ am harder to dupe. You forget that my father was a military man; and I recognize a tactical diversion when I see one. In this case, you want us to be the diversions while you attack Miss Bertram."

"There shall be no attack on Miss Bertram!" Lord Appleton said sternly. "You shall keep your assumptions to yourself, and not expose me to ridicule! I am forming an acquaintance, not an attachment; and I hope that none of my family shall make me the object of vulgar gossip!"

"Excuse me; I was mistaken. You are too wise to plan a premature attack, of course; this is only _reconnaissance,_ " Tristan replied impishly. "As I do not wish to offend Mrs Darcy, I will go to the Yates with you; but do not expect me to amuse the ladies you do not intend to entertain. I shall be civil, and nothing more."

* * *

When Mr Bailey and Mr Parker called on the Yates - shortly after the arrival of Lord Appleton, his sister Lady Deane and the two Fitzwilliam brothers-, Mrs Yates began to fear that her drawing-room would feel cramped. However, seats were found, bows and curtsies were very properly made, and all in all, Mrs Yates was not displeased to show both sets of visitors that _they_ were not wanting for company.

Sidney Parker had come with the sole purpose of supporting his friend Mr Bailey, this gentleman being quite taken with Miss Sophy. As for himself, he was prepared to meet Miss Bertram with perfect equanimity.

He was introduced to her; he gave his most formal bow; she curtsied very correctly, looking utterly untroubled and giving no sign of recognition.

Mr Parker must resign to the fact that Miss Bertram did not remember him. What a blow! He must conclude that Miss Bertram routinely called unsuspecting, blameless gentlemen, _unhandsome_ ; that in having been looked at, and found wanting, he had actually not been singled out in any way. There was, at least, some pride to be taken in being the victim of so definite a judgment; it gave one a sort of distinction among one's companions; but it appeared that he had not made much of an impression- even a bad one- on Miss Bertram. Oh, the indignity of being thus dismissed!

They were all seated. Miss Harrison, cowed by such an elegant company, said almost nothing at all, which was the wisest course of action, as in all likelihood she would have had little to contribute. To observe the fine clothes and the well-bred manners of the gentlemen and ladies- to take their likeness as accurately as she could, was her sole object. Her letters would be filled with the names of these new acquaintances!

The ball was discussed a little. Mr Fitzwilliam, engaging their hostess, undertook the task of seeking which connections they might have in common with the Yates.

Alethea, eager to further her acquaintance with Lady Deane's family, thanked her for her visit:

"We would have spent a dreadfully dull day otherwise. Indeed, we would have resorted to a novel for our entertainment", Miss Yates said carelessly.

"A novel, indeed! We can no longer regret our imposition if it saved you from this fate," Lady Deane answered.

Phoebe looked up sharply and tried to catch Cassandra's eye; but her cousin remained uncharacteristically silent and watchful.

"Most novels," Mr Tristan Fitzwilliam stated decisively, "seem to me full of drivel and immorality; filled with unrealistic talk or senseless acts like elopements!"

Those were unfortunate words, since the Bertram and the Wickham families happened to have experienced their share of such senseless acts. The younger generation did not know the particulars; but they knew enough to feel quite offended, and wondered at Mr Tristan Fitzwilliam.

Phoebe, in particular, felt the sting of this remark on her mother's behalf. She did not doubt for one second that it was the gentleman's intent to insult them all; but she was wrong on this point. The consequences of his comment were quite involuntary; he would have been surprised if he had been told of them. So little was his interest in the Bertram and the Yates, that he knew next to nothing of their family tree and of their history; nothing, indeed, beyond their names.

Lady Deane, who like the rest of her companions was not as ignorant as Tristan, hastened to speak:

"What my cousin wants to say, I believe, is that while some novels may entertain _enough_ to pass the time, they are as a rule badly written, show very poor taste and do nothing for the improvement of one's mind."

Sidney could not keep quiet any longer:

"At the risk of being deemed intolerably stupid by the serious-minded, I own that I love novels terribly. Now despise me if you dare," he said with a smile and a quick glance at the impassive Miss Bertram.

Lady Deane sniffed disdainfully:

"You are entitled to your opinion, sir; but I should be sorry to count lovers of novels among my closest friends."

The rebuke was unmistakable, and Sidney was beginning to realize that nobody would dare express an opinion against the lady, when Miss Bertram spoke up:

"I feel even sorrier to hear it, my lady. From today _I_ must be a stranger to _you_. You shall not dare acknowledge me even as an indifferent acquaintance, for there is no greater reader of novels than I – no greater reader indeed, at least in the whole county of Northampton," she amended without losing her serene smile.

Neither Sidney nor Lady Deane expected this kind of admission from these quarters; and both were shocked into silence.

It had the opposite effect on other members of the party, who suddenly felt more inclined to admit their own enjoyment of novels, in the wake of Miss Bertram's fearless disclosure.

"Quite so! Quite so, Miss Bertram," Mr Bailey said. "I greatly enjoy novels too, and I do not understand why I should not say so publicly. Why, I was staying at a watering place a few months ago; and when I went to the circulating library, the proprietor insisted that that her collection was not to consist only of novels, but of every kind of literature- works of Real Literature, she was implying. Despite her endeavours, novels remained the most borrowed works. They are popular, and rightly so; yet hardly anybody ever wants to own that they read them."

"Popular works," Lady Deane replied, "are not necessarily worthy of admiration. For the finest feelings, expressed in the most exquisite language, novels are nothing to poetry."

"How _I_ understand _you_!" Alethea exclaimed. "Only in poetry are we able to read the greatest depictions of the magnificence of Nature. Nothing moves me like the sight of a tree," she said lyrically, with the confidence of a woman who never set foot in the country if she could help it.

Lord Appleton looked at Cassandra:

"Your frankness does you credit, but you must concede that novels cannot achieve what works of true Literature do. Unlike History, or Memoirs, they are not grounded in reality – and cannot instruct us in any way."

"Your lordship does not believe that a novel can replicate life? That under the guise of fiction, we can uncover truths otherwise unacknowledged?" Cassandra asked seriously.

"I believe," Lord Appleton said with a benevolent smile, "that even the best novel can only imitate life; and like any imitation, it is fated to remain immeasurably inferior to the original. We cannot expect more. It is only a novel, after all; only a work of fiction."

"What a charge you are levelling against fiction!" Sidney Parker intervened. " _It is only a novel; only a work of fiction!_ I am pondering a work filled with vengeful gods, sea monsters, Cyclops and magicians; quite unrealistic, if you do not mind my saying so; and its author spent many pages describing the trials endured by his hero over the course of twenty years. His contemporaries must have thought poor Homer a very frivolous fellow when he set out to work on his _Odyssey_."

"The Odyssey belongs to the classics; and these works have very little in common with today's novels," Lord Appleton replied stiffly.

"Who is to say that today's novels aren't to be classics tomorrow? Maybe in two or three centuries from now on, they shall be the object of earnest study by future generations," Sidney said half-teasingly.

"I shall not care to leave such a legacy to the future generations," Lord Appleton said.

"If we leave it to you, I suspect that the future generations might think us fearsome creatures to behold," Mr Parker replied.

Upon this sally, he chanced a glance at Miss Bertram; but the lady was resolutely looking at the patterns of the rug and would not lift up her eyes.

"Better be revered than ridiculed. _Oderint dum metuant_ , as a great man once said," Lord Appleton declared triumphantly.

"Let them hate, so long as they fear?" Mr Parker translated for the benefit of the company. "A frightening saying; and I am not convinced that it served the emperor Caligula well."

"Oh, pray, do not attack us with your Latin quotations!" Miss Yates begged. "Unlike you, we were not instructed in the classics; and we cannot follow your conversation if you continue in that fashion."

Cassandra looked up:

"I do think, Alethea, that this was the gentlemen's object. Indeed, I have long suspected that the greatest benefit of a classical education was to give his recipients the ability to silence those who did not get one."

She met squarely the eyes of Lord Appleton and Sidney:

"However, since the gauntlet has been thrown down, I will confess that I see no objection to a novelist being as ambitious as the poet Horace. If the latter could hope to raise a monument more lasting than bronze, the former may very well be allowed to end his work with this quote: _Exegi monumentum aere perennius_ -and nothing will induce me to say more on the subject of legacy."

"How singular! You do know Latin?" Lord Appleton exclaimed.

"It is an unusual accomplishment," his sister commented.

"I did not learn Latin with this aim," Cassandra answered. "I did it for a very natural reason; I wanted to read the classics."

"Surely there were translations available," Lord Appleton observed.

"So many things can get lost even in the most faithful translations! If one hopes to understand the author's meaning, it is best to read the work in the very language it was written in," Cassandra said warmly.

Sidney had no difficulty in conjuring the image of a younger Miss Bertram stating her outright distrust of all translations but her own, and had to stifle a smile.

"Indeed," Cassandra added, getting a bit carried away, "I do not understand why young ladies should not be encouraged to read the classics as much as they are exhorted to net a screen or learn music."

"A classical education is not for anyone," Lady Deane said. "To be really accomplished is difficult enough; believe me, we should leave the classics to the gentlemen."

"Not all ladies possess your skills," Lord Appleton added. "It is to be feared that a classical education would be wasted on most of them; and that they shall never turn it into anything useful, that would make them well-read and truly cultivated."

"Do you believe, then, that it is not wasted on many gentlemen as well?" Cassandra asked. "I was told that gentlemen were frequently sent down from Oxford or Cambridge, being rusticated on account of their getting into scrapes and neglecting their studies."

"Such things do happen," Lord Appleton admitted; "but what makes you so certain that ladies would be more appreciative of the classics? They have done very well for themselves so far without a classical education."

"I am convinced that they would be less likely to squander such a gift for this very reason," Cassandra answered earnestly, "having been deprived of a classical education for so long, and being therefore all the more aware of its value."

* * *

Lewis Fitzwilliam was in the process of informing Mrs Yates that her husband, the Hon. John Yates, had been shown a distinct lack of consideration by the friends who had invited him to hunt with them in Suffolk.

"I have hunted there- and it was a most disappointing experience. The poorest game I ever had- and my friends hold me to be a decent shot! As for the few pheasants we managed to bring back, if one can call them pheasants, they are not worth mentioning. I wonder at your husband's friends! They should have had their hunting party in the Derbyshire. _I_ have never seen fatter pheasants in another county."

"Indeed, Mr Fitzwilliam," Mrs Yates replied, "but until the friends of my husband decide to relocate to this bountiful county, I am afraid that the hunting party _will_ take place in Suffolk."

* * *

"I cannot read a poem by Cowper, or by Wordsworth, without feeling moved to tears by their sublime sensibility!" Miss Yates told Lady Deane.

"How many sleepless nights I have known, reading _The Mysteries of Udolfo b_ y the flickering light of my candle, trembling much like Emily, my hair standing on end the whole time!" Mr Bailey was saying.

"This is the only way to read such thrilling tales," Miss Sophy agreed. She added in an undertone: "I fell ill in the middle, and Alethea volunteered to read it to me. She read well, but without any feeling, rendering the best passages so bland and dull! I felt quite crossed, and forbade her to read the rest to me- I waited until I recovered."

"I am grieved to hear it," Mr Bailey cried out feelingly. "Indifferent people spoil everything!"

"It is beyond my understanding to comprehend how one can be so interested in the trials of fictional characters. Furthermore, I know exactly the kind of novel you describe, with the heroines caught wandering sinister castles at night, all by themselves; and any heroine who behaves so foolishly deserves all the calamities that the author sees fit to inflict on her, " Tristan Fitzwilliam said with barely concealed scorn.

Miss Sophy looked indignant, and Mr Bailey replied:

"Weren't you moved when you read about the brave heroine's misfortunes?"

"With such an excess of tears, and fears, and perils; in short, with such an excess of sensibility described in great detail, I could not feel anything but irritation. _My_ sensibility was not appealed to in any way."

Especially, Phoebe thought ferociously, when sensibility was in short supply to begin with.

"Such works may have the most deplorable effects on impressionable minds," he went on.

"You should give more credit to the authors and to the readers, sir," Phoebe said. "Besides, if one must condemn the excess of sensibility found in fictional works, why not ascribe it to Shakespeare himself? The tales of _violent delights that have violent ends_ may thrill us, but we do not wish to emulate the heroes. Indeed, with our sensibility well-sated, we can go back to our daily lives, ready to act in the most sensible manner."

Lewis, upon hearing her comment, decided to reprimand her immodesty. Young ladies in Miss Wickham's situation, with no fortune and no claims to respectability, ought to be silent and deferential.

"You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person," he remonstrated. "Pray, what is your age?"

Aware of his brother's rudeness, Tristan interposed himself hurriedly:

"Do not answer him, Miss Wickham. You might see no objection in telling him your age today, but you might come to regret it in a few years- my brother has an unforgiving memory."

"Oh, I never forget anything," Lewis boasted, missing the point entirely as usual.

"I am seventeen, Mr Fitzwilliam," Phoebe answered, "and I do not believe that my youth should prevent me from stating my views. Indeed, we were encouraged to form opinions from an early age by my Aunt and my Uncle Bertram."

"That was incredibly indulgent of them," Mr Fiztwilliam began to reply; but Miss Bertram went to her cousin's rescue:

"Indeed; I can bear them witness- we could not have wished for more understanding parents. They guided us, but they let us free to see and judge for ourselves."

Sidney could not resist:

"You may form opinions effortlessly, but do you revise them as easily?"

"Before I commit myself, I think very carefully; therefore, I rarely find myself in the position of having to change my mind."

"It must be a great comfort to be right all the time," Sidney laughed.

"I do not have that pretension," Cassandra answered in earnest. "I have been wrong before, and am likely to err again; but I shall be doing my utmost to avoid it."

"You are too harsh on yourself! Wiser people have conceded that _errare humanum est_ ," Sidney said with a smile.

"Indeed, Mr Parker, to err is human, but you are forgetting the rest of the maxim: _perseverare diabolicum_ ," she returned with a faint smile of her own. "A mistake once made, should not be repeated; it ought not, it must not."

"To persevere is diabolical indeed, Miss Bertram," he replied; "but I could argue that someone who sets out from the start to form a fixed opinion might very well remain blinded by their own prejudice."

"I could counter, Mr Parker, that someone who elects to do otherwise might end up forming an opinion that is neither impartial, nor their own at all, but an amalgam of _everybody's_ prejudices."

Mrs Yates chose this moment to ring for tea. She might have waited longer; but she was acting in the best interests of Cassandra and Phoebe. She knew for a fact that opinionated young ladies, if they had the misfortune of knowing anything at all, should conceal it as well as they could; but it appeared that Cassandra and Phoebe had not learnt this lesson. She blamed her sister-in-law; but what could one expect, with Lady Bertram being a bluestocking of the first order?

The various debates ceased; there were no more Latin quotations, there was no more talk of Shakespeare to distress Mrs Yates. The sight of Lady Deane conversing amiably with Alethea caused her a great deal of satisfaction, and Mr Fitzwilliam condescended to compliment her on her fine china.

* * *

 _-I always love to hear from you! Don't hesitate to leave a review if you didn't entirely loathe it *shameless puppy eyes*  
_


	4. With perfect impartiality

**Summary** : The Misses Wickham were raised alongside their Aunt Mary's daughter. Now marriageable young ladies, will the three cousins manage to meet their match in spite of schemers, meddlers, prejudicial first impressions and the shadows of scandals past?

 **Disclaimer** : Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius; I am just playing in her world.

Thanks to the lovely reviewers, I have replied as usual on the forum, and so, so sorry for the delay! Things have been a bit hectic at work this year, with a "promotion" that actually means no pay raise, a slightly fancier title that hopefull will look good on my resume, double the workload and half the deadlines, so finding time and energy to write was a bit of a challenge! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter anyway!

* * *

As the eldest and most accomplished of the Misses Yates, Alethea felt that it fell upon her to guide her more unexperienced and provincial cousin. Alethea desired to further her acquaintance with Lady Deane and her relations, and after yesterday's exhibition, she could no longer ignore the necessity to curb Cassandra's behaviour.

"You should not have acknowledged your appreciation for novels after Lady Deane's censure. You must have given offense."

"Lady Deane professed such disdain for novels that I felt myself honour-bound to warn her of my own disposition," Cassandra replied. "No acquaintance should begin under false pretences."

"The honour of such an acquaintance requires that you should be more accommodating. Lady Deane's upbringing, _her_ distinction cannot be questioned. _Her_ taste must be discriminating. Let her judgment inform your own."

"Then I could not very well call it _my_ judgment anymore, could I?" Cassandra's smile was sharp.

Alethea was silent for a moment; then, changing tactics, she said:

"You surprised us all when you entered the gentlemen's debate on Latin quotes. As for the gentlemen themselves, if I may venture to give you a hint, dear Cousin, you must not mistake their surprise for approval. I am afraid that you must have appeared _bookish_ ; and gentlemen as a rule, (you must know it as well as I do), do not find this an attractive quality in a lady."

"I thank you for your advice, dear Alethea," Cassandra said. "However, there is little to be done about my appearing bookish, as I actually am quite fond of books. As for the gentlemen (as a rule) finding it unattractive, it is a pity, and I believe that this sorry state of affairs disgraces them more than us. Do not be concerned about me, however. I am quite contrary, and would rather value the interest of the exception."

Alethea's eyes narrowed in suspicion:

"Lord Appleton condemned novels; but I hope that you do not consider this unexceptionable gentleman to be unworthy of your regard? If one seeks the exception you praise among yesterday's visitors, it follows that Mr Parker must be one, as he appears very fond of novels."

Cassandra, resenting the implication of this speech, gave her best impression of indifference and replied coolly:

"He appeared very fond of novels indeed, as did his friend Mr Bailey, and your sister, and my cousin, and everybody who would not be cowed by Lady Deane's disapproval and yours."

"He was the one who was the first to speak out; and if I recall, you were quick to support him."

Cassandra coloured slightly, but replied calmly:

"Since he had the good taste of sharing mine, you could hardly expect me to malign his."

"It is unfortunate that you should have supported him, against Lady Deane and later, against Lord Appleton," Alethea persisted.

"While I understand that Lady Deane and Lord Appleton might not meet with opposition very often, I am confident that their constitutions shall survive the encounter," Cassandra said with some impatience.

"Lady Deane and Lord Appleton are, I believe, too _superior_ to take notice of opposition coming from inferior quarters," Alethea stated. "However, when our acquaintance with them is still at so early a stage, you might regret the way you acted yesterday, siding so openly with Mr Parker against Lord Appleton- without any consideration for the future, not that there is anything worth considering yet, although it is one's duty to entertain those speculations. One never knows from the beginning what an acquaintance _might_ develop into; therefore, one _ought_ to cultivate it with care, especially when it is so high, so respected, so honourable! To _dismiss_ Lord Appleton as you did, first, by contradicting him so boldly, then by engaging Mr Parker in a discussion from which Lord Appleton was excluded, might be viewed as a display of _partiality_ toward Mr Parker."

"Partiality toward Mr Parker!" Cassandra cried out. "First I am made to be his supporter because I, too, happen to enjoy novels, then I am nursing a tendre for him- a gentleman I only saw once before in my whole life- because I was arguing with him! Dear Alethea, you must choose: either I was in complete agreement with Mr Parker on everything, or I argued with both gentlemen in a most rational fashion. I pride myself on being _impartial_ , and I believe I disagreed as much with Lord Appleton as I later did with Mr Parker. Partiality, indeed! I am beginning to believe that the only way of escaping those suspicions is to never talk to any gentleman ever again - save for my father, my brother and every unattached acquaintance above seventy."

On those words, Cassandra left Alethea's side and went to join the rest of the ladies who were seated for tea. Miss Lucy Harrison was commenting on the good looks and the distinction of the brothers Fitzwilliam, especially the younger one, Mr Tristan.

Phoebe, looking doubtful, said:

"It _might_ be so; but I was hardly aware of it. Good looks alone are not enough to please me; they are greatly enhanced by a will to make oneself agreeable, and I saw little of it in either brother."

"You should not have replied to Mr Fitzwilliam's question in the way you did. He looked very displeased, I know he did, and I saw how Mr Tristan stared at you. You ought to have been more agreeable," Lucy replied primly.

"Indeed, we should all follow your example, Miss Harrison," Cassandra intervened. "By keeping still, and saying nothing at all, we shall soon convince everybody that we feel exactly as we ought."

Having effectively silenced Lucy, Cassandra soon abandoned so unworthy a target, satisfied that Phoebe would be spared such inanities.

Miss Harrison blushed fiercely, aware of the irony behind Cassandra's words, and unable to muster a suitable reply. She had always instinctively disliked Miss Bertram, whom she found too _satirical_ ; she had never understood her, but she still felt the respect owed to Miss Bertram's condition and elegance, and would have gladly traded places with Phoebe, her prized companion.

Miss Bertram, however, was not inclined to bestow this honour. Although Lucy Harrison was only seventeen- the same age as Phoebe- she did not awake Cassandra's protective instincts. They knew each other from childhood, Lucy's parents being neighbours and friends from the Bertrams. They were good people, living on a small income; and as a favour to them, Sir Thomas and Lady Mary had offered that Lucy should accompany Cassandra and Phoebe on their trip to London, much to Cassandra's displeasure. She saw Lucy Harrison as a rosy-cheeked, starry-eyed, and rather dim-witted nuisance, whose conversation afforded her no pleasures, and who had little to recommend herself, either in sense or good nature.

Cassandra was judging Lucy too harshly and maybe unfairly; but she was unaware of doing so. She had been a precocious child, and as she reached the venerable age of twenty, she still found herself in possession of a greater deal of understanding than most of her contemporaries. She was still unaccustomed to make for others allowances that she was denying herself; and she could only feel impatience with one so utterly unconcerned with the improvement of her mind.

"I must agree with Miss Phoebe," Sophy suddenly spoke out. "Although Mr Fitzwilliam and Mr Tristan are quite distinguished, Mr Bailey and Mr Parker's manners are much more pleasant."

Alethea could not let this innocent remark pass unchecked:

"Mr Bailey and Mr Parker are exactly the kind of gentlemen _everybody_ likes well-enough, I suppose. Their manners could never be anything less than pleasing, since they must rely on them to be granted admission into our circle."

Sophy protested that they were gentlemen, with honourable connexions.

"Their inheritance, however, comes from _Trade_ ," Alethea uttered disparagingly, "and as for the respectability of their connexions, I heard that a brother of Mr Parker had invested his income in some kind of _bathing-place_!"

Sophy blushed hotly, and dared not say a word to defend poor Mr Parker, in the hope that dear Mr Bailey would be spared such humiliating reveals.

"Indeed," Alethea resumed, sure of her triumph (the mention of the bathing-place having suitably rendered speechless even Cassandra) , "it is no wonder that Mr Bailey and Mr Parker's manners should be so pleasing. Gentlemen like Lord Appleton, Mr Fitzwilliam and Mr Tristan, have no need for such polish. Their _name_ , _position, connexions_ and _eligibility_ are enough to open them every door in the country."

"Even to Mr Tristan?" Phoebe could not help but inquire. "I was always led to believe that the laws of primogeniture were cruel to a second son, unless the elder brother met an untimely demise," she added in jest.

"Phoebe!" Cassandra said warningly. Her young cousin gave a sheepish smile, but Alethea was already explaining the circumstances of Mr Tristan.

He was the second son of Colonel Fitzwilliam, himself the second son of the Earl of Matlock. An ambitious young lady of means had set her cap on Colonel Fitzwilliam, and then a mere Miss Johnson had become Mrs Fitzwilliam, forcing her way into the very best circles!

"Colonel Fitzwilliam had the good fortune to marry a young woman of fortune!" Phoebe exclaimed. "How was he not suspected of being a fortune hunter himself?"

"The advantage of the match was all on _her_ side. She was the one who married above her station," Alethea asserted.

"Of course, Phoebe, a gentleman, even with little to his name, could never entertain any mercenary thought," Cassandra remonstrated earnestly, a spark in her eyes. "If fortune should ever fall into his hands by way of an advantageous match, it will be nothing less than he deserves by virtue of being born."

Phoebe stifled a laugh, and Sophy looked thoughtful. Alethea glanced at Cassandra with suspicion, but she went on to explain that Tristan Fitzwilliam, at the young age of nineteen, had come into an unexpected inheritance, from the late Anne de Bourgh, Lady Catherine's daughter, to the amazement of everybody, including her mother. Alethea knew very little beyond those facts, and the rest was only common speculation. The only sure thing was that Tristan Fitzwilliam, aged twenty-six, was now enjoying independence as the sole master of Rosings.

* * *

The particulars of _this_ story were only known to the family circle of the Fitzwilliams.

Nothing ever predestined Tristan Fitzwilliam to such a fate. Lewis (wisely named after Lady Catherine de Bourgh's late husband) had been the favourite of his great Aunt from the start; Lewis, by right, ought to have inherited the whole. As boys, the two brothers had been frequent visitors of Rosings. Lady Catherine had taken Lewis under her wing, while Tristan, left to his own devices, had been keeping his Aunt Anne's company, entertaining her, who was used to sycophancy more for the benefit of her mother than for hers. Genuine affection had blossomed between the sick Miss Anne and the spirited boy, who had kept visiting her throughout the years, with no expectations, no acknowledgement from Lady Catherine, only the sole purpose of diverting one who had very little to amuse her beyond Mr Collins' worn out compliments and Lady Catherine's weekly games of whist.

Then, the most unexpected thing had happened; for once standing her ground, Miss de Bourgh had left the boy her fortune and made him heir of Rosings. Lady Catherine could not dispose of those as she wished, and since Anne was adamant, her Ladyship must resign herself to deprive poor Lewis, who through the laws of primogeniture stood to inherit their estate as well as the bulk of his parents' fortune, of the estate of Rosings. She could only repair such grievance by leaving him her own considerable income, and must see the second son _almost_ equal to the first.

Tristan would make a respectable enough master, Lady Catherine granted begrudgingly; but what a disappointment! Lewis was more similar to her in temperament and habits; she could have relied on _him_ to manage the neighbourhood in the same spirit of benevolence as herself. What a loss to the neighbourhood! _Lewis_ would have doled out sound advice without waiting to be asked for it. _Lewis_ would have known to suggest capital improvements in their homes, such as shelves in the closets; but it was to be feared that Tristan would do no such thing, set as he was in the erroneous belief that people could be trusted to handle their own affairs.

Poor people! Poor tenants! They were more to be pitied than her, to be sure. What a master they might have had!

In the wake of those sad events, the great Lady herself reconciled with her beloved nephew, Mr Darcy, and was soon on such good terms with him that, amending her own will, she bequeathed to him a whole-length portrait of her person. This was a mark of great condescension on her part, as in all likelihood it would be exposed at Pemberley, next to the work of the renowned painter who had managed to capture Mrs Darcy's fine eyes.

* * *

The bookshops being no great attraction to Alethea and Lucy, it was soon settled, to everybody's satisfaction, that Alethea would visit acquaintances with Miss Harrison in tow, while her sister would go out with Cassandra and Phoebe to buy more works of frivolous literature.

Cassandra and Phoebe, acting on Lady Bertram's orders, set out to unearth the volumes the Mansfield library could no longer do without, when an exclamation from Sophy stopped them. Mr Bailey and Mr Parker were sighted, to the delight of all but one.

Sophy and Phoebe smiled, and curtsied; but Cassandra, hardly lifting her eyes from the open volume in her hand, only gave the barest nod. She heard Sophy and Mr Bailey conversing easily, while Phoebe exchanged pleasantries with Mr Parker; and, mindful of her composure, kept her gaze trained on the pages she turned, in a slower fashion than her quick reading actually allowed.

Alethea's comments were still too fresh in her mind for her to act otherwise. Past experiences, too, contributed to her uneasiness. She knew first-hand how harmful gossip and speculations could be, how they might turn heads and destroy tranquillity. The memory of a painful scene came back to her; no, indeed, she did not intend to try her luck at the complicated business of courtship! Her heart, her reason, her peace would not be destroyed. Her name would not be linked to another's; she would not be the subject of impudent speculations.

She was intrigued by Mr Parker; he displayed some wit, he was an ardent defender of novels, and as such deserved from her the instinctive sympathy all great readers must feel towards one of their kind. Yesterday, his spirit had drawn her despite herself; he had almost made her laugh at some point, and if it had not been for her staring fixedly at the carpet, she would have lost her bearing. Then, she had addressed him directly; forgetting everybody else during their exchange, caught in the unexpected delight of finding a mind ready to spar with hers.

She could not betray herself again. It did not matter that Mr Parker was no danger to her tranquillity; the world must be convinced of it as well.

Careful not to pay him the slightest attention, she was intent on remaining outwardly thoroughly engrossed in her book, and if challenged, would have been unable to sum up what she had been reading for the past ten minutes. She proved successful, however, in convincing everybody that she had barely noticed him, including herself, which was as per the course, since the one who _should_ know better is often the _last_ one to know.

* * *

 _-as always, your feedback is very much welcome!_


	5. Uncontested facts

**Summary** : The Misses Wickham were raised alongside their Aunt Mary's daughter. Now marriageable young ladies, will the three cousins manage to meet their match in spite of schemers, meddlers, prejudicial first impressions and the shadows of scandals past?

 **Disclaimer** : Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius; I am just playing in her world.

Thanks to the kind reviewers; I really hope you'll like this chapter!

In this chapter : nods at _Emma,_ _Northanger Abbey, Lady Susan_ and of course, _Pride & Prejudice_!

* * *

Although Mr Bailey claimed candidly that Miss Bertram had not meant any offense when they had last met in a bookshop, Sidney knew better. Miss Bertram, a baronet's daughter, visited by the likes of Lady Deane and Lord Appleton, was finding him- well, him and Reginald Bailey- to be below her notice. He was aware that her cousin, the elder Miss Yates, looked down on them; and while Miss Yates' disdain mattered very little to him, he was worried for his friend. Reginald was courting Miss Sophy, and Sidney thought that his friend's attachment was requited; but what good might come of it, if Miss Sophy's sister and her cousin used their influence to discredit Reginald?

Mr Bailey himself was beginning to understand the hints ventured by the elder Miss Yates, as she extolled the distinction, and noble air, of Lord Appleton and the brothers Fitzwilliam, facts that were sadly not contested by Miss Sophy. Should he not, he asked his friend anxiously, model his behaviour after those gentlemen; should he learn to talk and smile less?

"And pontificate more? " Sidney completed. "I would advise you against altering yourself in so radical a fashion. Only think of what should befall Miss Sophy and yourself, if you were to succeed under those false pretences! How cheated she must feel, when she finds herself bound to a husband cheerful at breakfast times, disinclined to retire in his study or to hide behind a newspaper if she ever wants a word- what a disillusion! Nay, better remain true to your nature; and if she accepts you, you shall know that she has come to terms with the dreadful prospect of being doted upon and treated better than she deserves."

"She is an angel, Sidney; how could I ever treat her as she deserves?"

"Very easily," Sidney said, smiling. "I understand Miss Sophy quite well. She deserves the best treatment, as she would never put up with any other."

Mr Bailey's fears were temporarily put at rest; but it was soon Mr Parker's turn to be vexed by the comparison with those gentlemen.

* * *

At a ball where they all found themselves reunited, the steps of the dance led him within hearing range of the ladies Yates and their infuriating cousin.

"Have you seen Lord Appleton tonight?" Alethea was saying. "Even you, Cassandra, must acknowledge that there is no finer-looking gentleman in the whole room. How noble, how handsome he looks!"

Mr Parker waited gleefully for the rebuttal that would surely come.

"Very handsome indeed, "Cassandra agreed readily.

Mr Parker, knocked out of balance, almost missed his turn.

"You seem surprised at my saying so, but I can hardly refute your claim, since the gentleman is the living embodiment of a Greek statue," Cassandra said pleasantly.

Indeed, it was all said very placidly, as Miss Bertram had perfected the art of delivering devastating statements in the tone one uses to comment on the weather; but to Mr Parker's acute ears, it sounded like an exalted panegyric. He could not listen to her praise of another gentleman's looks with the memory of the slight against _his_ still fresh in his mind. He was vexed; and how vexing that he should feel the vexation of it when he ought to laugh it off, as he did not care two pence for Miss Bertram's opinion!

" _Handsome_ , indeed! _Like a Greek statue_! This is not untrue, since Lord Appleton does exhibit very stone-like qualities; it must follow that Miss Bertram should admire this fine specimen of marble, what with her own stare being so petrifying!"

Such were his thoughts when the dance finally ended. He was walking in search of Mr Bailey when their host stopped him and called to Miss Bertram. Miss Bertram, who had hoped to take a turn around the room to watch the dancers and deflect any invitation to dance, reluctantly retraced her steps.

"Miss Bertram without a partner? This cannot be! Let me introduce you to this gentleman; Mr Parker is an excellent dancer and an eminently suitable partner. You shall not deny us the pleasure of watching you dance, Miss Bertram?" their host, a genial gentleman, said gallantly.

"I do not believe, Sir, that Miss Bertram was in want of a partner," Sidney interjected. "It is more likely that all possible partners were found wanting, and I doubt that I shall be the one to pass muster."

"Now, now, Mr Parker, how shall you know unless you ask Miss Bertram?"

Miss Bertram, who had not looked at Mr Parker until this moment, suddenly lifted her gaze to meet his:

"I am not spoken for, but it appears that Mr Parker has already answered for me. It spares him the trouble of asking the question; it spares me the trouble of answering it; and it spares us both the exertion of dancing. It is, indeed, very well thought-out; if only this was not a ball and if dancing was not the chief object of the whole evening."

Thus challenged, Mr Parker, half-prepared to be refused, made a very proper bow and applied for her hand for the next dance. Her answering curtsy was a model of poise, and her acceptance, a source of endless confusion to Mr Parker.

* * *

Cassandra had been determined to avoid Mr Parker, and the intercession of their host had done little to thaw her at first. If Mr Parker had asked her to dance right in the wake of their host's suggestion, she would have found an excuse to sit the dance down; but since Mr Parker was showing some reluctance to invite her, she _must_ get him to dance with her.

There were no qualms of conscience to trouble her, since it was at the behest of their host that she would be dancing with Mr Parker; and Cassandra convinced herself that by doing what she very much wanted to, she was merely acting as a considerate guest.

* * *

"Asking a lady to dance is no mean feat for a gentleman," Sidney observed lightly as they danced, resuming their discussion. "He proposes, but she disposes. He does not know what to expect unless he asks; while she holds the power of refusal."

"The power of refusal is a very limited one," Cassandra retorted, "and if the lady elects to use it, she is made to regret it more than the gentleman. His pride may be bruised, but he is able to recover, by asking more amenable ladies to partner him. He alone holds the power of choice and may keep using it whenever he pleases; while she must waste the evening away and sacrifice the rest of her dancing. If she refuses one partner, propriety dictates that she must refuse everybody else, to avoid giving offense to the one she turned down. How fair is it, Mr Parker? "

"Not very fair, I grant you; but she is spared the uncertainty of expecting an answer. And the uncertainty, I assure you, Miss Bertram, can be quite daunting, especially if the lady in question never gave any signs of encouragement to the gentleman."

"Maybe (to follow your reasoning), the aforementioned gentleman never struck the lady as requiring encouragement to ask _any_ kind of questions, even those that might be unwelcome," Cassandra replied with a faint smile.

"You paint a pretty picture of our gentleman." Sidney said, colouring a little. "It is within your rights to think of him as an impertinent enquirer, but I would be very sorry if in _one_ matter, he would act in the way that you describe. Indeed, he would not be much of a gentleman, if he did ask a lady any question that _might_ be _unwelcome_ to her."

He spoke warmly, and Cassandra found herself in a difficult position. She did not want Mr Parker to believe that her opinion of him was _too_ good, but she was beginning to think that she had succeeded a little too well; she did not want him to believe that she was holding him in such poor esteem either.

"This is indeed the mark of a gentleman," she agreed. "But one might argue that by relying on the lady alone to provide encouragement, he is leaving to her the burden of risking herself- without having the means of knowing beforehand that her encouragements are welcomed by him. The signs of encouragement should be given equally by both sides - by mutual effort."

"It would be most fair, assuredly, but how do you propose to make the timing of those defining moments coincide?" Sidney asked. "How do you ascertain the degree of encouragement given, or the intelligibility of those signs? This dance is turning out to be much more intricate than the one we are now having, with a higher probability of missed turns and falling out of step."

"And yet, in spite of all those formidable obstacles, we _are_ dancing, and very nicely too, if I may be the judge of our performance," she countered.

"Very nicely indeed," Sidney conceded as they went smoothly through the rapid motions of the dance without missing a beat or losing breath; "I am agreeably surprised that you should say so, despite _your_ initial misgivings. You might have wished to stand with a nicer-looking partner- one you might have called _handsome_ ," he stressed with pointed emphasis. "May I be so bold to ask if your satisfaction with our present performance indicates that you are revising your first impression?" he asked pleasantly.

Cassandra, suddenly recalling her own words, and understanding that he had heard them, felt her cheeks grow warm; but she promptly recovered:

"This is a trick question that you are asking; indeed, I foresee the trap. You expect me to protest, and to start praising your countenance; but such a compliment would reflect badly on _me_ , since I agreed to stand with you for the duration of this dance. My motives for accepting you as a partner cannot be questioned; therefore, to prove that I was not guided by superficial concerns such as looks and elegance, I shall staunchly deny you any claim to beauty."

"After wounding my vanity, you would not offer some reassurance to the innocent party you so cruelly injured?" Sidney asked, playfully adopting a pitiful expression.

"I do not believe, Mr Parker, that _you_ might have been so affected by the words of a perfect stranger," Cassandra replied in a dry tone.

"I was not affected at that time," he said, a little untruthfully, "but we are no strangers to each other anymore. The introductions have been performed by now; and since we are better acquainted, I beg you to satisfy my curiosity, Miss Bertram; if not for my good looks, for which of my good qualities did you accept my invitation to dance? The demand for good qualities being so high, and the supply, rather low, I would gladly learn all about the ones I might be credited with possessing. This is for my own edification as well as for the sceptics who doubt me. –There, I will state with confidence; you cannot deny me _this_ good quality. Miss Bertram has informed me that it is so. _Her_ word can be relied upon, as she is a most discerning lady, uncaring of superficial concerns."

"We are recent acquaintances, and yet you would trust me to recognize your good qualities?" Cassandra asked in disbelief.

"Almost as much as I trust you to perceive my worst flaws," Sidney said mischievously.

"My study is not complete yet. Indeed, it was too soon for me to accept this dance on the basis of your good qualities; but it was the right time to accept it in the hopes of discovering them. A dance between new acquaintances like us can only be performed in this spirit of inquiry," Cassandra parried. "But if you do not think so, let me return you the question, Mr Parker; for which of my good qualities were you convinced to issue the invitation to me?"

"Now it is my turn to foresee the trap. I shall never dare tell Miss Bertram about her good qualities, as she must be well aware of them already, and I am not so vain as to hope that the good opinion of Mr Parker could ever be of significance to her."

This was amiably said, but Cassandra was not satisfied with this reply. She would have spoken, and tried to get him to explain himself, but the dance was drawing to a close; he made an impeccable bow, she a flawless curtsey, and they parted ways, each feeling more puzzled by the other than they were before, and still unable to make out their character.

* * *

Cassandra joined Phoebe, who was standing by the refreshment table.

"You look flushed," her cousin observed, holding out her fan to her which she took gratefully.

"Indeed; it was most invigorating," Cassandra said, not sure herself that she was talking of the dance.

"Why didn't Mr Parker join us? People will say that you chased him off!" Phoebe said half-laughingly.

"It is always better to be thought the sort of lady who chases gentlemen off, rather than the kind that chases after them," Cassandra told her seriously.

"But suppose that you want to catch one of them someday?" Phoebe asked.

"In that case, Phoebe, the gentleman must let himself be caught out of his own volition, since I shall _not_ give chase after him," Cassandra said with decision.

* * *

Sophy had been dancing with Mr Fitzwilliam. She hardly felt exceedingly diverted by the end of their dance, but the comments that followed hereafter were most gratifying. She had attracted notice, by virtue of standing with him, more than she would have been if she had partnered with a mere Mr Bailey. She was sorry of it; but Alethea's dire predictions were working on her mind. Her birth gave her claims to distinction, higher claims than those of the ladies belonging to Mr Bailey's circles. She could not get elevated- indeed, she must consider the sobering thought that in the eyes of the world, _she_ would be lowered by uniting with him. How Alethea would sneer, scorn, and deride; Alethea, who always came first, who deplored her lack of ambition and patronized her! She would say that Sophy was unable to get any _true_ gentleman to come up to scratch! How dismal!

When Mr Bailey came with an offer to bring her any refreshments that she might like, she declined with some coldness, and pointedly said that she would not detain him any longer by her side, as his friends must be missing him. Mr Bailey looked hurt, and Sophy felt herself regretting her stance already, but he was already stammering his apologies and fleeing the room. Several gentlemen of excellent birth and connexions asked her to dance; she could call the ball a success; but she was finding it hard to smile. She had only acted in the way Alethea did on a regular basis, without any misgivings to trouble her. She must harden her heart, she supposed; but the prospect filled her with more apprehension than pleasure.

* * *

It was Cassandra's turn to dance with Lewis Fitzwilliam.

He paid her what he believed were very proper compliments, which politeness forced her to accept with the appearance of pleasure; but Cassandra thought privately that she might feel offended on her parents' behalf, at the way Mr Fitzwilliam expressed his delighted amazement at their managing to raise a fine lady.

* * *

Sidney Parker was not far off the mark when he called Cassandra's unwavering stare petrifying; and foppish gentlemen who attempted to ask the pretty Miss Wickham to dance without being properly introduced first, encouraged by the absence of a matron by her side- Mrs Yates being occupied on the other side of the room with her daughters and Miss Harrison-, were suitably cowed by Miss Bertram, and retreated in an undignified fashion.

"Cassandra!" Phoebe whispered with some irritation, "will you discourage all the fashionable gentlemen who happen to look our way?"

"I would not discourage them if they only had the sense to ask our host, or any respectable third party, to perform the introductions. This is not our small circle, Phoebe, where everybody knows everybody; and even then we must be careful about whom we are being introduced to," she said seriously.

"But we are mostly being properly introduced to great bores, do not try to deny it, Cassandra; I saw how wan you looked after dancing with Mr Fitzwilliam!"

Cassandra did not deny it:

"Most of the gentlemen we have been introduced to may not be entertaining, but their respectability can hardly be questioned. Enduring their platitudes is a small price to pay for ensuring that we do not find ourselves in a c _ompromising_ situation."

"But I have for principle to never suffer any bore, and if I were to dance with one, wouldn't I be _compromising_?" Phoebe teased.

"You shall keep you reputation spotless, and therefore shall not be prevented from forming a _promising_ acquaintance," Cassandra told her.

"I know, a woman's reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful," Phoebe sighed, reminded of her Aunt Mary's lessons. (Lady Bertram would sometimes lapse into her younger self's penchant for sermonizing.)

She was then led away by a solemn, quiet looking young man they had been introduced to, a bit boring, as she predicted, but at seventeen, being asked to dance was enough to afford her some measure of enjoyment; and she felt quite wise beyond her years for not being more cross with her partner.

* * *

Cassandra watched this with satisfaction, secure in the knowledge that Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram would not have her act otherwise, and that they were justified in trusting her to guard her younger companions. She genuinely believed Lucy to be as well protected as Phoebe at the moment, little suspecting that her Aunt Yates and her cousin Alethea were not obeying the same strict rules as she did.

Indeed, Miss Harrison was dancing with Mr Manwaring. Mrs Yates and Alethea had been introduced to him. They knew little of him, but they recognized him as a gallant young man, with easy manners, no position and no income; quite ineligible, but admitted into society. Elegant society never closes its door to agreeable gentlemen of his figure; and since it would be quite provincial of them to shun Mr Manwaring, neither Mrs Yates nor Alethea saw any harm in allowing Lucy Harrison to dance with him. The young lady would be entertained enough; and surely a man of his address and countenance would not waste his skills on such an insignificant little thing. He must aim for a young lady of fortune; and Lucy, gauche and unassuming in her dress and in her manners, must be quite safe from such designs, as nobody could ever mistake her for an heiress.

They would have been astonished had they been privy to his remarks to Lucy:

"You look ravishing, Miss Harrison. I count myself lucky to be the first to apply for your hand."

Stammering and unused to such compliments, she thanked him profusely.

"The competition, indeed, should be fiercer; but such is the way of the world. They remain indifferent to pure beauty and true modesty; they see the fine gown of your Miss Bertram, then they learn her name and her position, and suddenly she becomes the handsomest girl in the room."

"She is very beautiful," she forced out reluctantly, but honestly.

"You must feel obligated to say so, of course," he said with a knowing look, "but _I_ am not deceived by _her_."

"Have you met her, sir?" Lucy asked with curiosity.

"No, but a friend of mine met Miss Bertram in Bath last year; and the report I got was quite enough to deter me from ever wanting an introduction. She is, I am told, insufferably proud and conceited, and much too used to getting her own way."

Lucy was very struck by this assessment, since it almost coincided with her own. In truth, Cassandra was mostly treating her with polite indifference, trying to suppress the impatience Lucy's commonplace conversation never failed to provoke; but Lucy sensed Cassandra's disdain and resented her for it. Propriety was whispering in her ear how indecorous the whole conversation was; how rude that Miss Bertram should be criticized so freely, to herself, who was an old acquaintance, by a perfect stranger.

She ought to issue a stern rebuke, and put an end to his impertinent comments; but it was too tempting, too gratifying, to hear him voice so eloquently her own anger, and to be found more beautiful than the superior Miss Bertram.

She remained silent, and he resumed his grandiloquent speech:

"I understand you. _You_ are not at liberty to speak. Your silence honours you. I only hope that she is deserving of it. Does she treat you, such a delicate angel, as you deserve? No, do not answer me. It gives me the excuse to see you again, to inquire after your well-being. If you will allow me, Miss Harrison- know that you have a friend in me."

She could only give a fierce blush, send him a look that conveyed her inconceivable astonishment and her endless gratitude, and fall as deeply and hopelessly in love as only an unskilled girl of seventeen could do.

* * *

To be dancing with Lord Appleton, after having been subjected to the more tiresome society of Mr Fitzwilliam, was very much welcome to Cassandra. Maybe this calculation had occurred to his lordship, when he had secured her hand right after his cousin; and at first Lord Appleton appeared to his advantage. The size of the room and the number of dancers were appropriately remarked upon; then Cassandra's elegance, manner of dress and good breeding were the recipients of his lordship's seal of approval.

A lady seldom objects to being approved of; but Cassandra, after her initial satisfaction, could not help noticing that Lord Appleton, so anxious to soothe any concerns she might entertain about _his_ good opinion of _her_ , did not expect that _he_ might require from _her_ the same reassurances.

His assessment he presumed to be one-sided; and it soon became obvious that her good opinion of him he held for certain. He was withholding himself from inspection; he was not laying down his character for her judgment; and Cassandra would have borne him better if he had only considered that she might wish to retaliate.

So she resigned herself to being approved of with as much grace as she could muster; and actually enjoyed it very little.

* * *

"He might look like a Greek statue, but a _Galatea_ he is not! I fear that she shan't be able to breathe her spirit into him; and what a pity it would be if he were to turn her into stone like himself!" Sidney thought as he watched the pair dance, his mood souring a little.

Then he shook his head and turned his attention to his new partner. She smiled a lot and nodded even more; he could not have wished for anything more agreeable. Indeed, it was a true respite from Miss Bertram, and Sidney blamed his deranged mind for thinking it incredibly insipid.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, long after the ball had ended, sleep was still eluding Cassandra.

So Mr Parker had heard her unfortunate appreciation of his looks the first time she had caught sight of him. She remembered how it had happened: her irritation at Sophy's question, asked so publicly; her resolve to say nothing complimentary that could be misconstrued; her shock at meeting Mr Parker's amused gaze. She had not lied; his features did not have the perfect symmetry one could admire in Lord Appleton's expression, he was not handsome, and that was an uncontested fact.

It had cost her nothing to admit this very evening that Lord Appleton _was_ very handsome, as this was another uncontested fact; nothing indeed, as pictures of perfection left her cold.

She would, however, staunchly refuse to comment any further on Mr Parker's looks, since she did not find him handsome, but _very near it_ , the more she saw of his expressive, mobile face, with laughter dancing in his eyes and ready to spill from his lips.

No, she would not call him handsome, but what did it signify? Indeed, she must learn to keep her distance, since the evening had proved that unlike many gentlemen, Mr Parker grew even _more_ attractive up close.

* * *

 _-while this fanficcer's happiness doesn't entirely rely on reviews, it is an uncontested fact that they greatly enhance it ^^_


End file.
